


You think you can make it on your own?

by kiiouex



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood, Combat, M/M, Spelunking, Thrilling contract negotiation, Undead, Very light flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiiouex/pseuds/kiiouex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wood elf mercenary needs a mage's assistance, and picks up the first hireling he can find. Marcurio would almost certainly object to being called a 'hireling', but times are hard and he's happy to stick around longer than he's wanted. It's an unplundered crypt; surely there's something worth his time inside.</p><p>Mostly action/exploration oriented. Could probably be Gen and G-Rated but there's implied future relationship and a little swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You think you can make it on your own?

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's fairly consistent with Skyrim's world, though naturally I took small liberties (and they manage to get the Black Horse Courier on special import). I like to imagine Marcurio dabbles in necromancy, at least a little, since my OC goes the thief/assassin route. I hope this isn't too self-indulgent >>;

It was an unusually cold night in Solitude. Howling winds kept most tucked up in their warm homes, while those lacking warm homes found comfort and company in the longhouse. It was quite popular, a quiet buzz of conversation persisting despite the late hour. The innkeeper even put more coal on the fire instead of letting the embers smoulder as a hint for people to buy a room or clear out.

Marcurio had been there for hours, sitting by himself, occasionally tuning in to the chatter around him. He didn't care much for the local gossip and never approached one of the large open groups near the fire. He simply stayed by the wall, trying to make his mead last the whole night,  reading the free copy of the Black Horse Courier he had gotten for the seventh time.

When the door opened, he didn't bother to look up, just braced himself against the rush of bitter cold that came in with the newcomer. Marcurio was vaguely aware of footsteps going to the bar. He wasn't aware this was odd until he noticed the group by the fire had lowered their tones to whispers and he looked up to see them staring at the bar, at the hooded stranger talking to the innkeeper.

Marcurio studied the stranger, glad to have a distraction from the Courier. He had his hood up, a lean build with the suggestion of muscle under his leather armour. An expensive looking bow was slung over his back and he had only a small pouch at his waist, unusual for a traveller. There was a dark hilted dagger in his belt, and when he turned to glance at the whispering group behind him, most of his face was hidden in the shadow of his hood. He looked like trouble, looked like he might have been part of the Dark Brotherhood, or a highwayman at the very least. Marcurio scoffed a little, quite unintimidated, because the stranger was so _obvious_ , so shrouded in shadows, he thought he might be one of those try-hard loners, who declared themselves assassins and got killed by wolves on their first day out of city walls. There were legitimate assassins of course -and the stranger certainly looked the part enough to spook the locals - but Marcurio thought the odds on him actually being one were low.

The innkeeper passed him a flagon and he took it, but didn’t stop leaning on the counter. He asked something in a voice too low for Marcurio to catch, but when he finished the innkeeper shook her head - and a second later pointed to him.

The stranger picked up his flagon and approached while Marcurio straightened up, surprised but adamant to appear like a proud mage, even if no proud mage would be found alone with the cheapest cup of mead in Solitude’s longhouse, even if everything that needed to be said about him had been given away by the threads coming loose on his robes.

“Good evening,” he told the stranger, keeping his tone crisp and back straight. “What business might you have with me?”

The stranger didn’t even raise his hood as he took the seat across from him. He took a long swig from the flagon before answering, “I need a mage’s assistance. It’ll pay.”

Marcurio was starting to feel rather disrespected, and lifted his nose a little further into the air as he replied. “I don’t need to do business with anyone who refuses to show their face.” The stranger hesitated, and Marcurio nodded towards the group by the fire. “I think they’d prefer to not have hooded strangers bringing hints of ill-doing into their longhouse. They might come over soon. Are you interested in that kind of attention?”

The stranger muttered something that Marcurio strongly suspected involved swearwords and him, and pushed his hood back. He was a wood-elf, with typical pointed features (including ears) and long brown hair tied up in a way Marcurio was sure must be uncomfortable under a hood. He was actually rather handsome, Marcurio thought, even with his features creased in frustration; “Does this satisfy you?” He asked in a very patronising tone, and Marcurio wrinkled his nose at the further rudeness.

“It satisfies _them_ ,” he said, still enjoying the chance to use his good posture to display superiority. “But I’m not about to work with someone whose name I don’t even know.”

The stranger rolled his eyes and said very slowly, "Asreth. Are you interested in anything I have to say or do you enjoy making huge deals out of minor details?"

"I'd hardly call knowing your name and face minor details," Marcurio replied, still with his nose wrinkled.

Asreth set his jaw, and Marcurio thought he might be getting superior enough for the stranger to give up on him, and quickly moved on. "So; this business?"

"I need some ice wraiths removed."

This actually came as a surprise to Marcurio, but he only expressed it though an artfully raised brow. "I thought a man of the wilds such as yourself would be equipped to deal with such a common threat.”

Asreth really looked ready to get up and leave. He stared at Marcurio, mouth drawn tight, wondering how someone so insufferable had lived so long. “First; I am not a ‘man of the wilds’. I have a bow. Don’t treat me like some mad woodsman.” Marcurio actually nodded slightly, and Asreth gritted his teeth before continuing. “Secondly; incorporeal wraiths are rather difficult to _shoot_.”

They have solid segments," Marcurio argued. "Just aim for those."

"Yes, I'll just aim for the single small target on a fast moving opponent while it shoots shards of ice at my head," Asreth replied irritably. "Now, shut up and listen."

"Very rude," Marcurio murmured, but Asreth chose to ignore him.

"Can you take out several wraiths? Is that in your power? Can you do that?"

"Why did you repeat the question three times?"

"I wanted to be sure the core of what I’m asking didn't get lost on you," Asreth replied. "I didn't want to get caught up on, 'yes, I _can_ kill the wraiths, but _may_ I kill them.'"

Marcurio couldn't help bust snicker at that, and earned himself another filthy look from Asreth. Coughing to cover it, he replied, "I certainly can and will. I don't see why you can't just... avoid them, but certainly."

"They're guarding something," Asreth replied quietly. He took a large gulp from his flagon again, cast a look around the longhouse, tried to make sure no one was listening.

If the term 'guard' hadn't made Marcurio suspicious, Asreth's obvious attempt to avoid eavesdroppers certainly would have. The mage laced his fingers in front of him, took on a delicate tone as he asked, "This 'business'... is it perhaps not entirely legitimate?"

"It is completely legitimate," Asreth retorted. "The actual owner is long dead. Unfortunately, the wraiths he set as guards remain. You said you will do it, so I don't think there's a problem."

Marcurio tilted his head thoughtfully. "No problem yet. We haven't addressed the matter of payment."

"I'll give you 200 for your time."

"200? Insulting. I'll do it for 500."

Asreth had that same expression again, the one where he was obviously contemplating stabbing Marcurio and seeking assistance elsewhere. "I am offering 200. It is just a few wraiths."

"If it's just a few wraiths, why don't you take care of them?" Marcurio replied in the most condescending voice he had ever assumed. Even he was impressed by how grating it was. Asreth's eyes narrowed further. "Oh, wait, you are reliant on physical combat. What a shame. If only there were a magic user willing to help you out..."

"250," Asreth said.

"450," Marcurio replied.

Asreth shook his head. "Too much. I'd rather aim for their weak points than give you that big a share."

"That's certainly still an option," Marcurio said, trying not to make it obvious how much he hoped Asreth would not take that option. "However, I suppose I could deign to accept as little as 350."

Asreth thought about it for a long time. Marcurio tried to maintain his superior posture as he waited for the stranger to make his mind up. He ended up looking around the bar, saw there were still a few suspicious gazes from the larger group, and that the innkeeper had finally tired of people sitting around and not buying anything. "I'm not sure you have much longer to make a choice," he murmured as the innkeeper conspicuously started putting the stools up.

Asreth watched her work for a moment before finally saying, "340, and you get to keep nothing from the location."

"What would I want from there?" Marcurio replied, hoping for an answer but receiving none.

Asreth pulled his hood back on as he stood up. "I'll meet you back here at sunrise tomorrow. Assuming you don't want to set out now?"

The first of the large group left and the gale of icy wind that flooded the room made the dying fire flicker. "Absolutely not," Marcurio replied.

"Well then," Asreth said, and that was it, he went out the way he had come in. The large group would have relaxed with his departure but they were dispersing. The innkeeper put up the stool Asreth had just vacated and coughed loudly.

Marcurio sighed, thumbed the handful of septims in his pocket and decided it was worth it, he was getting paid the next day and that would not happen if he literally froze to death. He handed the ten gold pieces to the innkeeper who took them with surprise and pointed him to a free room.

He lay down on the bed with relief, back thanking him for a proper mattress. He wondered where the stranger was staying; he was either the type to completely slum it from necessity or paranoia, Marcurio decided. Probably not a shadowy-try-hard like he'd first thought, but he'd get to see the next day. Kill some wraiths, 340 septims. Marcurio felt very comfortable as he fell asleep.

He was a lot less comfortable at sunrise the next day, waiting in the morning chill outside the longhouse with his whole pack and the kind of grimace only poor night's sleep could give. There had been nothing wrong with the inn bed, but his body had apparently wanted to stay there longer. He decided to stay optimistic though, decided to think in terms of 'when he had been paid', when he would buy some less tattered robes, be able to look the part completely when he stood up straight.

Asreth was a little late, and he came out of nowhere. Marcurio had been glaring down both sides of the street, but when he turned back the archer was there beside him, looking impatient as though he had been the one on time. "Are you ready?" He asked briefly, not sparing the time for greetings.

Marcurio looked affronted. "And a pleasant sunrise to you to," he said, taking the time to make each syllable clear and watching Asreth chafe at the delay. "You didn't tell me where it is we're going?"

"Rookshadow Rock," Asreth replied, "And I would like to set out now." He made a broad gesture to the gate.

Marcurio let his eyes follow the gesture, let his body appear as if he were about to start moving, and then delighted in staying exactly where he was. "Rookshadow Rock is three hours away."

"Only on foot." After that had hung there for several second, Asreth looked pained. "You don't have a horse?"

"I am not especially fond of the creatures."

"Can you ride?"

Marcurio glanced at him. "You intend to rent me a horse?"

"No," Asreth said, and his expression stated just how clearly he hated Marcurio. Marcurio assumed there was a reason for it, and assumed that reason was perfectly justified.

It was. Asreth could not afford a second horse, and so Marcurio had to share with him. Asreth's horse was a proud white stallion called 'Whisper' that Marcurio found great pleasure in calling by name loudly in front of Asreth. He was less delighted when Asreth had to help him to mount the beast, and the smile faded from him completely when Asreth pulled himself up behind him. "This is completely undignified," he said, expression stiff as Asreth reached around him to hold the reins. He had not meant to get so close to his new companion so soon, not even if he was handsome.

"It is, isn't it?" Asreth replied, tone telling Marcurio that he was gritting his teeth again. “Just stay still and don’t talk.”

Marcurio despised not being able to talk, but he was capable of it. Being told not to talk however had guaranteed that Asreth got to spend the forty minute ride with a loud running commentary about every bump in the road or oddly shaped tree they passed as well as an amateur psychological analysis of why Marcurio thought Asreth had named his horse 'Whisper'.

By the time they reached Rookshadow Rock, Asreth had said, 'Because he's _quiet_ ' around ten times and had barely resisted slicing Marcurio about nine. "Listen," he said as he dismounted smoothly from the horse, "This is what is going to happen. You are going to climb over this rise, find and kill the wraiths, and leave. I will come back to Solitude to pay you."

Marcurio snorted. "Of course you will. I'm absolutely sure you will pay me. Maybe you'll even promise a bonus if I go without complaining. Unfortunately, I refuse to part ways with you until I have the promised 340 septims in my hands."

Asreth narrowed his eyes. "That won't be possible. My employer is in Makarth. I can't pay you until he has paid me."

"You didn't mention this." Marcurio's usual needling slid away to a more serious tone. He didn't even bother to look down his nose at Asreth. "Are you telling me you can't pay me?"

"I fully intend to pay you for your service," Asreth replied. "I just need your service in order to obtain the funds."

"No," Marcurio said flatly.

"No?"

"No. I know that you will never return to Solitude, and I will not accept your 'promise'. Why should I trust you? Have you looked at yourself lately? You were wearing a black hood in the longhouse, I mean honestly, why don't you just have a big sign saying 'Thief/Assassin' over your head at all times? At least no one will think you're one of those dumb kids if you do."

Asreth stayed quiet while Marcurio ranted, and he wasn't even grinding his teeth by the end of it. He seemed to be thinking, and Marcurio awaited his response (and solution to the payment issue). Eventually he asked, "What dumb kids?"

"You know," Marcurio said irritably, "The ones who fancy themselves thieves and assassins and get their stupid necks broken on their first 'missions'."

"Oh," said Asreth. "I think I knew a few of those. Briefly."

"About my payment?"

Asreth shrugged. "I already said, I can't pay you. You can do the work and hope I return to Solitude, or you can just walk three hours back for nothing. Up to you."

Marcurio narrowed his eyes. "Assuming I did the work, what if you rescinded the condition you placed on my payment? There's something valuable behind the wraiths, surely."

Asreth hesitated. "Valuables that belong to my employer, yes. But if you're asking about valuables that may go unaccounted for..."

"It's a risk for me, I know," Marcurio said, switching seamlessly into the tone of someone doing a great charity, "But I will have to clear your wraith problem and just hope there is something for my troubles."

Asreth said nothing, eyes narrowed. Eventually, he just pointed over the rise. "Get to it, then."

Rookshadow Rock was set in the side of a mountain, not high enough up to be difficult to reach or attract the worse of the creatures that roamed mountains, but not low enough to be stumbled across. It was moderately well known, as the area beneath it was in a valley, shielded from the wind, and had a small lake popular for outings. Asreth had led Marcurio up past the area he was familiar with, further up the mountain to Rookshadow proper.

Marcurio cleared the little shelter Asreth had taken the horse to and stared at the solid white wall of mountain ahead of him. "Do you see them?" Asreth asked from below, and Marcurio replied that did Asreth _think_ he could see the incorporeal, transparent creatures on an absolutely featureless slope?

Asreth made a frustrated noise, a little louder than the others that he had made in the hour he'd been awake that day, and climbed the ridge in a few fluid movements. He scanned the mountainside for a second before pointing and saying, "Right there. By the cave opening."

Asreth's tone had seemed to think that the wraiths were in plain sight and Marcurio was blind for not spotting them. But it took another three minutes of the mage blinking weakly at the landscape while Asreth tried to direct his gaze until a tiny flicker of movement finally caught Marcurio's eye. There were indeed four ice wraiths, a hundred feet away, glowing white while hovering above white snow that shone a bright white in the weak morning sunlight. As for the cave opening, Marcurio assumed the whole mountain was as smooth as the stretch in front of him; there were barely any outcrops littering the slope. "Just those four?"

"There are five," Asreth replied. "Or, there were, yesterday evening. I assume the fifth one is around."

"Maybe you just can't see it," Marcurio said, much more snidely than was necessary, and Asreth made his frustrated sound again.

They stayed, standing on the edge of the ridge for a moment, until Asreth said, "Well?"

Marcurio glanced at him. He had been expecting Asreth might offer to _help_ , but then if Asreth could do it, he wouldn’t be there. That’s what people got for relying on swords and bows. "I’ll show you why magic is superior to your fallible weapons."

Asreth folded his arms, content to stand back and let Marcurio take care of the task he‘d been hired for. Marcurio nodded and took a few steps forwards, towards the wraiths. There was plenty of distance between them, but they were bound to spot him with no cover on the slope. Marcurio ran though his options quickly, and settled on the spell he thought might be most effective. He began charging it, hands aglow with the fire he was readying as he walked closer to the wraiths. There was still a hundred yards between them when the first of the ice wraiths noticed him, letting out a rasping wail as it rushed at him, the other three following suit. Marcurio stood his ground, trying to judge the speed of the wraiths rushing him. The first was getting close, he could almost make out the bones of its head as it hissed, little jagged shards in its wake. No wonder Asreth didn't want to try and shoot them, he thought, as the forerunner opened its jaw.

When it's fangs were an inch from his nose, he released the fire. Flames roared up in a circle centred on him, roasting the wraith and dropping its burned bones to the melting snow of the mountain. Marcurio smiled confidently as the bright fire flickered and three more wraiths screamed. His smile faded when his firestorm died and they circled around.

"Fuck," he swore, pulling his hands back and trying to charge up another spell but the wraiths were quick and he had to duck, throw himself down. He landed on the bare rock of the mountainside as three wraiths soared over his head. They turned quickly, circling fast, but Marcurio didn't need much time and lightning arced from his outstretched hands. It caught one and leaped to another, both of them wailing hideously as they fried. The third missed the lightning but it had to dodge its fellows and it only caught Marcurio's robe in its fangs as it dove at him again. Marcurio summoned a fireball again, but didn't trust his aim with such a fast moving target; he let it get close before he threw up a wall of flame, immolating it like the first one.

When all four were down, he got up, huffing with the exertion and trying to straighten his now horribly torn robes. He pushed one hand through his hair, trying to keep it neat, when an arrow soared past his shoulder. Marcurio froze, stared across the ridge at Asreth who was pulling his bow back, taking aim, and Marcurio called fire into his hands, glaring furiously at the archer, but the flames didn’t come fast enough as Asreth had already loosed. There was another screech and the fifth ice wraith disintegrated, bones skidding to a stop at Marcurio's feet, the largest part of the skull having been shattered by an arrow.

"Well," Marcurio said, all energy going into making his voice steady and not betraying his pounding heart, "I suppose there were five."

"And I could see them all," Asreth replied, not unpleasantly, lowering his bow. "I thought they had you there."

"Nonsense," Marcurio said. "A true destruction mage, like myself, is never outmatched in combat."

"You just thought the rock looked inviting and wanted to throw yourself on it?"

Marcurio did not respond to that, instead finished fixing his robes - well, he shook them out, there wasn't much to be done about the jagged hole that was unfortunately high on his thigh - and turned back to the mountainside. "Lead the way into the cave. I think you deserve a taste of combat."

Asreth gave him a sideways glance, one that said fully that he knew Marcurio just couldn't see the cave opening, and picked his way across the slope, picking up both his arrows as he went. The entrance to the cavern, Marcurio was glad to see, was barely more than a crack in the rock with snow thick on its borders. Asreth actually went past it, and had to see Marcurio's smug grin when he turned around. "I did save you back there," he muttered, crawling in to the cavern.

He warned Marcurio to stay behind him, move slowly, not talk, and do his best not to step on any twigs or bones and make a loud crack at an inopportune time.

"Does that happen a lot?" Marcurio wanted to know.

"You'd be surprised," Asreth replied in a tone that suggested he had some _great_ stories.

Asreth kept his bow in hand as he moved forwards, pausing after almost every step to listen and check the cavern around him. To Marcurio, they were currently in a narrow crevice with dull stone walls on both side and could not see what Asreth was being so cautious about. But he didn’t complain. He did ask, twenty paces in, why Asreth had to pause after _every_ step.

“Compensation,” the archer murmured in reply. “I have to listen over the sound of your leaden steps.”

Marcurio thought he was doing a great job of ‘stealth’ and felt quite indignant.

Another ten paces in and there was an opening, where the narrow path opened into a wider cavern. Asreth reached the opening and nocked an arrow, but didn’t fire. Marcurio waited patiently for almost a whole minute before he had to ask, “ _What? Go on._ ”

“Silence!” Asreth hissed, not turning to look at him. A second later he swore and raised his bow. Marcurio craned his neck, trying to see past Asreth, but the cavern was as dark and still as anything else. When Asreth loosed, Marcurio tried to follow the path of the arrow, but even as it struck something with a soft thump, he couldn’t tell what the target had been.

Asreth took a few steps into the cavern, still moving slowly, tentatively, and Marcurio had the good sense to stay back. There were shuffling footsteps up ahead, headed towards the thud from whatever had fallen, and Asreth loosed another arrow. A second thud, then the cavern was silent.

The archer straightened up, relaxed his posture a little and investigated the corpses. Marcurio assumed that meant he was able to stop shuffling and followed suit. The two corpses were human, but it was hard to tell what race they were, since they had been corpses for quite some time before Asreth shot them. “Reanimated flesh,” Marcurio remarked, while Asreth pulled his arrows from their skulls with sickening cracks. “A little more difficult than a skeleton, so it wasn’t an amateur necromancer who conjured them. It does raise a few questions, though.”

“Does it?” Asreth said flatly, clearing some viscera from the arrows before he thrust them back into his quiver.

“I think it does,” Marcurio replied conversationally. “Are we in a necromancer’s lair, by chance?”

“It’s irrelevant,” Asreth said. He did a quick circuit of the cavern, but it was completely bare aside from a rotting wooden table. There was another opening on the other side and he started towards it, lowering himself into a crouch as took a careful step in.

Marcurio rolled his eyes, not crouching as he followed. “Must we really do this? Reanimated corpses are not known for their fine senses, and your means of progression is so _slow_ … What are you doing?”

“Stepping around this pressure plate.” Asreth glanced at Marcurio’s face in time to see the mage squinting at the ground, and traced the circular outline for him. “I suppose it might be hard to see. They are somewhat easier to spot if you’re close to the ground and moving slowly.”

Marcurio muttered something bitter and then asked, “What is it connected to?”  Asreth didn’t hesitate as he pointed straight up. Directly over the pressure plate, hidden in the shadows of the high ceiling, sat something that looked like a spiked ball. A large, heavy spiked ball, with something very dark staining the spikes. Marcurio skirted the pressure plate.

There were several more caverns with narrow crevices connecting them, all with a variety of undead that Asreth dispatched quietly. There was a little more loot further in, handfuls of coins abandoned on counters and dusty bottles that Marcurio swept into his satchel as part payment. In one there was a stack of books that seemed to be rotting, and Marcurio thumbed through them quickly. He tried to sweep those into his satchel too, but Asreth was suddenly beside him, saying, “Those are necromancy texts.”

“Yes, they are,” Marcurio agreed, book in his hand hovering over the opening of his bag. He’d been sure Asreth had been on the other side of the room.

Asreth picked another up from the table, looked at the red on black sigil on the cover, before giving Marcurio a long look. “What use are these to you?”

“They’re not,” Marcurio replied smoothly. “The Mage’s Guild has completely outlawed necromancy; I am taking these texts back to them so they can be properly destroyed.”

“If you leave them here the mould will claim them soon enough.”

“But some aspiring dead-raiser may find them before that,” Marcurio declared. “I cannot allow that to happen.” And he stuffed the rest of the books into his pack with his head proudly raised.

Asreth kept looking at him with that half-suspicious sideways glance for a long minute, and then, as if he couldn’t resist, his eyes dipped down to the hole over the mage’s thigh, snorted with laughter, and turned away. Marcurio turned bright red and began a long speech about propriety that Asreth literally walked away from.

The archer located a tripwire in the next little tunnel, and said, “Why don’t the zombies trigger these?”

Marcurio thought he was just wondering aloud, but then Asreth turned to him in askance and he realised he actually wanted an answer. He said, in a proud tone, “All reanimated creatures can follow simple instructions.  Skeletons are capable of more complicated commands because they have less to focus on; reanimated bodies like these are stronger, but can’t focus as well. These ones were probably bound to certain areas, and wouldn’t leave their assigned caverns.”

“Hmm,” said Asreth, who had lost interest one sentence in. “How interesting. And specific.”

Marcurio faltered for half a second, just long enough that he knew it had been noticed, before he set his shoulders back again. “Know your enemy,” he said with severe confidence. “Every mage learns about necromancy, just enough to be able to effectively root it out.”

“Of course,” Asreth murmured, barely audible, as he stepped over the tripwire in a smooth movement.

Asreth noticed first when the cave started to get warmer, and by the time Marcurio complained the air was muggy, the stone walls were dripping something that Marcurio took pains not to touch. Marcurio had a poor view of what was ahead over Asreth’s shoulder, but when they reached the next opening it was large enough for him to get a clear view of how high the ceiling was, how wide the walls were. “Do you suppose this is the last one?”

Asreth nodded tensely, whispered, “Wait here.” He crept forwards with an arrow nocked. Marcurio watched him disappear into the shadows of the cavern walls, suddenly realising how silent Asreth really was when he moved, how his footsteps made no noise, and when he had finished realising that, he completely lost track of where Asreth was. The archer had merged with the shadows completely, and Marcurio couldn’t pick him out of the dark blanket against the cavern wall at all.

Marcurio did finally have an unblocked view of the cavern. The opening he stood in was in a corner, with groups of rocks scattered around. There was a red light glowing dimly in the cavern’s centre, and a few smaller lanterns scattered around. He couldn’t clearly make out the central light source, but it seemed to be sitting on an altar, surrounded by five unmoving reanimated guards. As he watched, he heard the light twang of Asreth’s bowstring, and then one of the corpses was on its back with an arrow in its head. The other four gathered around it, looked down, moaned a little. Another shot, and a second one toppled, dragging a third to the floor as it returned to death. The two still standing had worked it out now, they turned to face the direction the arrow had come from, scanned the shadows for the archer. Asreth blended in too well; they didn’t see him. They did, however, spot Marcurio.

They shambled towards him, faster than they looked like they should be able to move. Marcurio summoned lightning to his hands while Asreth picked another off, and when the last one reached him Marcurio smiled as his electricity tore it apart. He looked to Asreth, and saw the archer dart from the shadows, to the fifth corpse which writhed under the one that had tripped it, lacking the co-ordination to get up. He shot it quickly, but didn’t relax his stance, didn’t stop looking around.

Marcurio approached him, getting close enough to the altar to make out the glowing item atop it; a crystal set into a staff, blood red and flickering with power. Marcurio gave it a hungry look, reached out to grab it, but Asreth swatted his hand away. “This is for my employer,” he snapped. “It’s why we’re _here._ ”

“Alright,” Marcurio replied. “No need to be rude.”

“I think there might be,” Asreth replied, walking all around the altar, examining it and crouching down to check underneath. The altar was covered in glowing red letters painted across every surface.

Marcurio watched him work for a while, content to stand back and try to determine how decomposed the no-longer-animate corpses were, before he finally asked Asreth, "What is it you're doing?"

"Checking for traps," The archer replied briskly, running a hand over an edge of the altar, ready to leap back in case it shocked him.

"I suppose you're looking for more pressure plates and trip wires?" Marcurio asked in a dry voice.

Asreth nodded. "Hair triggers and anything that will react to the removal of the weight as well..."

" _Physical_ traps," said Marcurio, with such emphasis on physical that it was a wonder he deigned to walk on the earth with a corporeal form, "Are not what you are likely to find at the altar of a necromancer."

Asreth paused, looked like he was holding back some very pointed words, but he tried to sound co-operative when he asked, "Okay then, what should I be looking for?"

"You don't need to look for it." Marcurio had possibly reached a new personal best for smugness. "It is written all over the altar."

The red runes inscribed on the rock had seemed decorative to Asreth. He rubbed a thumb over one and found that it pulsed with a faint heat, faint activity. "This is a curse?"

"One that you didn't notice."

"What does it say?" Asreth said, refusing to meet Marcurio's eye. He would say he was busy examining the altar, the mage would say he was too ashamed to face him.

With agonising slowness Marcurio made a show of reading the runes while Asreth crossed and uncrossed his arms. "It says..." he started, trying to look scholarly, pretending he couldn't read it incredibly fluently because they were actually rather basic runes and he'd rather they were more complicated and impressive. "It says that should the staff be lifted, the previous owner will have his vengeance. And - _ha_ , this necromancer called himself 'Ravenloft Darkfell', can you believe it? The names these people think they're worthy of..."

Asreth left the 'worthy of' comment slide, focusing on the red pulsing stone set in the staff. "Can you dispel the runes?"

"No," Marcurio replied.

"No? What kind of mage are you?"

"An _expert_ in destruction magic," Marcurio puffed out his chest. "You hired me to kill wraiths, not unbind enchantments. You need someone else for that."

Asreth studied the altar. "What if you destroyed the stone?"

"If I could destroy the stone with such precision the staff would remain unharmed - and I can, of course - I don't think it would make a difference aside from being very messy. The spell is likely tied to taking the staff, not just lifting it."

Asreth sighed heavily, asked, "What do you suggest we do then?"

"Just take the staff." When Asreth stared, Marcurio shrugged. "All the defence he managed to conjure for this were a handful of corpses. Not that hard to summon, not that good, look how simple it was for us to get this far. I say take the staff and just deal with whatever 'curse' a man called Ravenloft Darkfell managed to create."

Asreth had to think about it, had to take another circuit around the altar. "Let's pick up everything else from this cavern first, at least. In case it collapses."

It was a sound plan, and Marcurio agreed with it. They found a little offshoot bedroom which completely disgusted them both - a necromancer living alone in a cave was not the sort to have good personal habits - but they pocketed all the gold they found, Asreth trying to slip some coins out of Marcurio's sight while the mage picked up more books and scrolls in order to 'dispose of them properly' which Asreth tried not to roll his eyes too much at. There was also a strongbox, one that Asreth wasted no time in working lockpicks into. Marcurio watched, quite fascinated. "I could just blow it open," he offered.

"Do not," Asreth replied, "What if there are valuables inside the locked chest? I know it is an incredible stretch of the imagination, but just let me open it nicely."

Marcurio watched, made terrible, snide comments whenever Asreth broke a pick, and eventually said, "You are actually quite practiced, aren't you?"

"I thought, and I'm quoting you from thirty seconds ago, that I'm obviously a 'complete hack who treats lockpicks like the tiny worthless pieces of metal they obviously are' and also 'a useless thief, obviously shady and yet totally incompetent with even the simplest lock.'"

"Well, yes," Marcurio waved a hand, "The amount of picks you're breaking is shocking."

"No, it isn't," Asreth muttered, listening intently as he levered the small tools in the lock, "Not for a lock this complex."

"You see?" Marcurio sounded proud, as though he was right for calling Asreth both an imbecile and talented in the same breath. "You're wasting all your picks on a difficult lock. One that isn't intimidating you and you are obviously willing to waste supplies on, so either you are incredibly simple and tackling a task well out of your league, or you are incredibly talented and the rewards are going to be worth it."

Asreth paused in his work to contemplate what he'd just been told. It might have been a compliment, he thought, though he didn't trust his translation of what Marcurio said to be anywhere near what the mage meant. "Thank you," he said after some time.

"You're quite welcome," Marcurio said, but his tone was dripping superiority again and it dissolved all of Asreth's good will. He got the strongbox open a few picks later, and neither of them were disappointed. Inside was a little pouch of sapphires that made Asreth's eyes go wide and a few very, very small purple bottles that Marcurio shoved up his sleeve despite the complete impracticality of it. "I suppose you'll want a cut of the sapphires?"

Asreth tipped them out, only catching a few between his fingers as a private cut. "Looks like... 600 septims worth."

Marcurio narrowed his eyes. "I suppose you're an appraiser of jewellery now?"

"I have some experience with evaluating the worth of precious gems," Asreth replied with very careful wording. "And I know this is about 600."

"Then you would object to me taking the whole bag."

"I would, yes," Asreth replied, narrowing his eyes too and getting ready to make a few more of the stones vanish.

Marcurio considered it for a moment. "Do you intend to return to Solitude before you go to give the staff to your employer?"

"I wasn't planning on it, but I see what you're getting at." He thought about it. "200 septims is worth two hours of my time, definitely."

"Well, then." Marcurio scooped the gems back into their pouch and dropped it into his pack. His expression dared Asreth to challenge him, but the archer assumed Marcurio wouldn't skim more off the top than he had himself, and resolved to call them even for the time being.

Between them they stripped most of the shelves in the bedchamber, leaving clothes and anything too ruined by mould and filth to touch. Marcurio took a satisfied look at the bare shelves and his bulging pack, and started towards the other chamber, when he noticed Asreth looking under the bed and had to ask why.

Asreth stood back up and tried to wipe his hands and knees. "I just noticed something a little odd... we haven't seen this necromancer's body."

"... I suppose we haven't," Marcurio replied. "But maybe he died elsewhere, or in a corner."

"He set his staff on an altar, I think he knew he was dying in here," Asreth argued. "Besides, I have checked all the corners." He saw Marcurio open his mouth and quickly added, " _All_ the corners. All of them."

Marcurio shrugged. "Does it matter? The staff does. Once you collect that, we can get back to Solitude, both have a healthy profit and finally part ways."

"You think _you're_ eager to be rid of _me_?" Asreth asked dryly, but didn't push it, just followed him back to the main chamber where the red glow still pulsed softly, invitingly, and Asreth finally picked the staff up.

He stuffed it in the crook of his arm as soon as he had it, drawing an arrow and waiting eagerly for any kind of response from the cavern. Nothing happened, nothing changed, but Asreth didn't relax.

Marcurio had charged up, copying Asreth's combat-ready stance, but after a full minute he shook the fire out from his hands and started what promised to be a long speech with, "You see - "

"Shh!" Asreth said at once. "The runes." The red-glowing letters on the altar were fading back into the stone, one by one. Marcurio cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed, but he waited with Asreth until the stone altar was bare. "Do you feel it?" Asreth whispered, bow drawn, turning around constantly trying to spot a threat.

Marcurio was about to ask 'feel what' when he _did_ , he felt the coldness the cavern was suddenly awash with, felt the chill creeping up his spine, and he saw his own breath, saw cold mist coiled up from the floor. He and Asreth both backed up to the altar, Asreth still turning frantically hoping not to be surprised while Marcurio summoned his flames back to his palms, taking deep, readying breaths.

Asreth gagged suddenly, and Marcurio looked at him in askance. "That smell," Asreth bit out, visibly nauseous. Marcurio could smell it too, the scent of death and rot that the cavern had already had multiplied tenfold and was suddenly in his nose, it just didn't bother him as much.

They both heard the hiss at the same time, whirled around at the sound of air being sucked into long-empty lungs, both saw the spectre rise from the altar at the same time, a hollow thing, skin clinging to a broken skeleton, robes tattered and loose around it, grim teeth fixed into a smile.

"It's a lich," Marcurio hissed, and Asreth nodded, holding his bow steady while the creature rose, still forming, still shaping itself in the physical world. It hissed again and it wasn't a breath, it was a warning, a battle cry, and Asreth's arrow hit it square in the chest where it stuck. The lich looked at him and hissed again, much louder, drawing in air, too much air, all the air in the cave and all of Asreth's spirit was going with it though he braced himself with two feet and tried to resist. Marcurio let his flames go freely, let the lich draw them in by itself, let it call the torrent of fire pouring from his hands directly to the rotting flesh. The flames caught on those tattered robes and the lich howled, eldritch and terrible.

It wasn't defeated but Asreth had the air back to him and he rolled away, seeking shelter in the shadows of an outcrop while Marcurio took a second to recharge, this time filling his hands with crackling, luminous electricity, a kind of fire that hummed and snapped and waited to be loosed. The lich howled again, the red flames burning it turned black and becoming a part of it and Asreth thought that Marcurio had just made the spectre worse. He shot two more arrows in quick succession but they burned in the black flame without harming the ghost.

Marcurio didn't flinch. He emptied his hands of lightning, the bolts leaping towards the target, gleefully crashing and crackling and frying the rotted skin and bone, tearing at the fabric of the phantom while the lich howled again. All the shadows in the cave shook, the corpses re-animated and the mist took shape, minor spectres summoned to serve their master.

Asreth panicked, the hands holding his bow shook. This was not what he did. This was not picking off targets, this was too many targets, how could he possibly pick them off, he stayed flat against the wall and hoped to go unseen, and nothing noticed him because everything was converging on Marcurio, all the zombies, all the wraiths, he'd summoned a circle of fire to guard him but the lich was still howling and that eerie droning sound was getting louder and Marcurio was already pouring everything he had into the fight and if Asreth just stayed very still he would be safe but only until they were no longer distracted by Marcurio. He tried to breathe deep, tried not to gag on the thick dead smell that tried to creep down his throat, tried to keep his hands steady, and shot the corpse closest to Marcurio in the head.

Marcurio was vaguely aware of the corpses around him falling, but he couldn't spare a second to look, not while the lich kept making so much noise and trying to corrupt his fire, trying to turn the flames of his circle black, trying to extinguish flames in his hands, grant the ghosts entry to his circle. He flung more red flame but it turned black in the air and the lich made a strange choking sound that Marcurio recognised as condescending laughter. He was an expert on it, after all. But to have the lich, laughing at him? He clenched his fists, drew more lighting into them, let the power gather while another corpse fell with a thud. He could feel his body becoming a little lighter as he expended his energy, knew his reserves were starting to get low. He hurled more bolts forwards, hitting the lich in the face while the phantom groaned with pain and Marcurio smiled, just a fraction, as it stopped laughing.

The ghosts tried to stick their fingers through his wall of fire, but Marcurio poured more of his reserves and made his circle flare up, catching a few of them and reducing them to ashes and essence. He didn't know how many more there were. The lich was starting to approach him, the black flame having long since burned his skin away and now just charring it's bones, lighting the empty eye sockets. It raised a hand, started to speak in a voice that rasped and sounded like the dead clawing at their tombstones. Marcurio reached into himself and found the last of his magic, pulled it into his hands and fired, at the same time Asreth loosed an arrow at the lich's skull. They hit it at the same time and the skull shattered, bones clattering to the altar as the fire extinguished itself with an echoing howl. The ghosts lost their power and faded as Marcurio's circle petered out.

Asreth took a step away from the wall. The cavern was suddenly very dark, and it took Marcurio a moment to see him. They looked at each other for a moment, then at the charred bones on the altar, the corpses, and without saying a word, they left the whole cave as quickly as they could. Back on the side of the mountain, the brightness of the sun on the snow was blinding, and they struggled with the light. Eventually, Marcurio thought he should say something, because he usually thought he should say something, and settled on, "You really needed me for that."

Asreth was far too tired for the exchange. "For what?"

"For the lich. Think about it, if you had sent me home after the wraiths, what would you have done when faced with a mostly incorporeal spectre?"

"I don't know. Run?" Asreth shut his eyes for a moment. "My arrow did shatter it's skull."

"I think you'll find it was my bolt. I was absolutely the reason you did not just die in there."

Asreth groaned. "What do you want?"

"The whole bag of sapphires."

"Fine," he snapped. "It'll save me returning to Solitude at least." Asreth looked exhausted, wrung out, like he'd just had a near death experience and of course he had and Marcurio had to acknowledge he didn't look much better himself, pale and weak and with no magic left in him. Asreth strode back across the slope, down the ridge. Marcurio was too tired to follow immediately, and it was only when he hear the whinny of Asreth's horse that he remembered he was halfway up a mountain and it was going to be more than three hours to get back to Solitude on foot.

 

 ---

 

He made it back by nightfall, sold the sapphires to the jeweller in the pub for 650 septims and had a very good night's sleep in a soft longhouse bed. Marcurio was able to get some new robes without any embarrassingly placed holes in them, and had much more success as a mage-for-hire when he properly looked the part.

Over a moon later, on a quiet night where the wind wasn't trying to sweep the chill around, he was enjoying an evening in the longhouse. He was reading one of the books from Rookshadow Rock, in the cover of a respectable tome on alchemy, and savouring a mug of the second-cheapest mead the innkeeper had to offer. When the door swung open, it took the whispering of the groups by the fire to make him look up from the book to see what the fuss was, and see a hooded figure crossing the floor towards him. Marcurio closed his book, laced his hands neatly on the table, and tried not to look too pleased as the hooded figure took the seat opposite him. "I have a business proposition," he started.

"Asreth, please," Marcurio said, successfully keeping the smugness off his face, but not out of his voice. "I think you could do me the favour of taking your hood off, don't you?" He kept grinning as the archer grumbled and pushed his hood back. "I'm glad you enjoyed my company so much last time you're seeking it again."

"Do not get the wrong idea," Asreth said, tone stern, but the slightest hint of a smile creeping onto his face. "I am employing you because there are literally no other mages for hire in this area."

"Of course there aren’t," Marcurio said, leaning back in his chair with a very superior smile.

Asreth’s smile was tight and strained, and Marcurio hoped there was some genuine amusement in there somewhere. “Do you want to work with me, or not?”

“I think we can work something out.”


End file.
